I really wish I could go back in time to change the course of events that led to me sitting on the internet at 3 Googling 'Traumatic masturbation' while talking to you about failed dates, and running a virtual restaurant in a video game.
There's a litter of kittens in my bathtub and beer cans everywhere. I want my apartment key back.
I was talking to some girls while you were falling off your bar stool into the person next to you.
You. Me. A bottle of Vodka. The wilderness.
Once you mention butt plugs, conversations always take a turn for the worst.
Do you have any pictures of me mounting animals that aren't on Facebook?
"You can go raw dog up in me". Exact words. I can't decide whether to run, or fuck. Help.
You don't know reunion panic until you've exfoliated your butt cheeks.
Update - might be back in your neighbor's good graces. She liked the framed photo I gave her of me on the tractor with my business out.
THEYRE FUCKING GOLD
Are you talking about the color of my tits or the quality of my nudes cause both are
We sexted for four hours straight. Is this really what my life has come to?
No joke. There's a picture of the priest I made out with on my parents' refrigerator.
Last night you dunked donut holes in spinach dip, ate it, threw up, and continued eating. I cant keep up with your drunk eating skills.
I was wondering where the donuts went.
Hypothetically speaking, if a girl asks you to fuck her wearing only your hockey helmet, is that socially acceptable?
I woke up to a gigantic ft-long tootsie roll and a note by drunk me with the words "you're welcome"
Randomize
